Strangers On A Train
by galsbeingpals
Summary: Because all evil lesbians should strangers on a train their beards. ASAP. SwanQueen AU. Kinda dark. Sorry not sorry.


Strangers On A Train

I'm gonna get my ass kicked by so many people for starting yet another story when I already owe so many updates, but no one should be alone (aka without a swanqueen fanfic dedicated to them) on their birthday. So HAPPY BIRTHDAY DANIELLE (SWANQUEENJMO)! Here we go…

Warning: Some VERY black humour, don't take it to heart. Sorry it's so dark, I have no defence, only a morbid fascination with evil.

BREAK

Emma was late. Of course she was. She always was, ever since she'd married her pathetic house husband for his pirate's loot. She loved the money, of course, but she'd never been particularly interested in men in any capacity, and Killian Jones was the most boring man she'd ever met. She had actually started to wonder whether the fortune was really worth enduring his presence.

Emma raced through the station. It was hours until the next train but the guard was already raising his hand- The man paused, eyeing a sharply dressed brunette with extreme irritation. She had already boarded the first class carriage, but now she was stepping out again, just with one foot, to place an expensive black stiletto on the platform for no reason other than to make the train late, apparently.

Corporate Evil Queen Regina Mills did, in fact, have another reason - she had seen the panting blonde sprinting for the train. The very pretty panting blonde - and if Regina were to have a weakness, it would definitely be pretty things. Of course, Regina Mills had no weakness, but she was a living, breathing woman, and she did have needs.

Emma threw herself into the train in front of her saviour, who she realised, when she took a second look, was absolutely stunning. She was glad her gasping for air could be explained by the running.

"Thanks," she wheezed.

"It was my pleasure, Miss..."

"Swan, Emma Swan," Emma supplied, shaking the proffered hand.

"Regina Mills. Sit with me."

It wasn't a question. Emma stowed her overnight bag in the luggage rack and followed Regina to her seats - two of them, a table between, with partition walls creating something close to a compartment.

"So, what awaits you in Glasgow, Miss Swan?"

Emma flopped ungracefully in the offered seat, while Regina arranged herself primly in the other one.

"Work. My husband's shipping company. Well, my company now," she said with a sarcastic smile. "In all but law."

"Oh, how interesting. You must forgive me, I assumed you were unmarried."

Emma grinned. "I wish. What about you?"

Regina chucked. "Do I also wish I was not married?" she asked, showing the huge diamond engagement ring and accompanying wedding band adorning her left hand. "Yes, dear. I do."

Emma laughed loudly, liking the woman already.

"May I inquire where you are from? You have neither the Scottish brogue, nor an English accent."

Emma reclined even further in her seat. She might have married into money, but she had been born poor and had no desire to hide her working class roots.

"I was born somewhere near Boston. My husband's English, so we live just outside of London. What about you? I can't place your accent at all. You sound fancy as hell, but you're almost old school Hollywood, you know?"

Regina decided to take Emma's comments as a compliment. "I also live in London," she said, hoping she did not seem too evasive. On second thought, she did not really mind how she seemed. It mattered very little.

"And why are you going to Glasgow?"

"So many questions, Miss Swan. One would almost think you were interested."

"Who says I'm not? Besides, you already asked me, so it's not an unprecedented question."

"Business, similarly to you, I imagine. Though not in _shipping_."

She made shipping sound like a dirty word. Emma wondered if "old money" could still matter to people in 2015.

Regina kept her answers vague and reserved, reminding herself that despite her interest in her new companion, she had an image to maintain and a plethora of secrets to keep. She was no stranger to wooing a _pretty thing_ for a night's amusement, but she had to make sure that was all it was, and that the woman could be trusted.

Everything about Emma screamed that she was not to be. Regina found herself ridiculously enthralled by the slovenly blonde with sparkling green eyes and a tone dripping with sarcasm and… Darkness. That was it. That was why Regina liked her. The only other person she knew with such darkness was herself.

The stewardess appeared, offering them menus and drinks. Regina ordered champagne.

"You're celebrating?" Emma asked, surprised.

"Not at all. I simply like the taste," Regina answered, proving to emma that she was indeed a rich bitch to the core.

Emma didn't mind in the slightest. She'd always been drawn to money, since she was a street kid picking pockets, and Regina was everything she found attractive. Money, looks, _breathtaking_ looks, wry wit, cynicism, and a dash of pure evil. Emma had long since given up wondering why she had no conscience. Some people were just dark, especially when they realised how good it felt.

They drank their champagne, and Regina mentally reviewed the situation. A quick web search on her phone proved Emma Swan was who she said she was, wife of millionaire trader and shipping extraordinaire Killian Jones. He owned, and Emma managed, Jolly Roger. They transported everything other companies would not - both legally and not, Regina suspected, though this was not a problem. Laws were only guidelines, and for far lesser people than herself.

Swan was not famous; her face was neither known nor important. No one had seen her at the station, there was no record of them together, and they had no business connections. There was no reason they should ever encounter each other again. Emma did not often take this train - she revealed that she preferred flying. She was a little vague as to why she was on the train this time, but Regina decided this could work to her advantage. There were three reasons for a wealthy person to take the train instead of flying. The first was personal preference, and that was Regina's. The second was anonymity - flights were recorded and required identification, while train tickets could be purchased with cash and did not even ask for a name. The third was dangerous objects or smuggling

\- everything going on a plane was scanned searched, from luggage to the passengers themselves.

"So which is it?" Regina mused out loud. Emma looked up from her second glass of Bollinger.

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing," Regina lied.

Emma smirked. "Lie to me all you want, lady. You're speculating and I know it."

Regina laughed. "You are correct, though I have reached no conclusions."

"Good. I far prefer to show a woman what I am than have her make assumptions," Emma said, licking her lips.

She had done some research of her own. Regina Mills, wife of Leopold White, who had inherited his vast wealth, and now invested and grew it. He was old. Really old. And ugly. Emma looked Regina up and down. She must have a strong stomach. At least Killian was okay looking.

"Why did you marry him?" she asked.

Regina's answer was immediate and dripping with romantic innocence. "Why, true love, of course."

Emma cackled. "And why did you hold the train for me?"

"You are incredibly attractive when you run," Regina said honestly. Emma's stomach fluttered without her permission.

"What about when I sit with you?" she asked, grinning.

"Perhaps if you did not slouch so much…" Regina said, but her eyes twinkled. She usually went for women who were too stupid to question her, but there was something so enticing about having someone to punch back.

Emma wriggled even more comfortably into her seat. "I think you like that I slouch," she said confidently. "I think you envy my comfort."

"I, envy you? I doubt I envy anything about your life," Regina said snootily.

"Not even my Disney princess hair?" Emma pouted, flicking her blonde curls.

"I admit, I enjoy looking at it. But I could hardly fuck my mirror, could I?"

Regina eyed Emma curiously. Emma swallowed, but she didn't miss a beat.

"Which is a damn shame for you, really."

"Smooth, Swan," she teased, but she was secretly rather impressed.

Their food arrived. Emma dived straight into her cheeseburger, slaughtering it with gusto and efficiency. Regina watched her devour the meal, smiling more than she had in months.

THAT EVENING

Emma collapsed against the giant hotel bed, a sheen of sweat covering her naked skin, her body still spasming with pleasure. Regina pushed herself up, licking her lips.

"I have missed that," she said. Emma pulled her in for a long, lazy kiss.

"God," she moaned into the woman's mouth as Regina's fingers began to wander again. "I wish my husband was dead."

Regina froze. Had she heard that right? Had Emma really just said..?

"Shit! Forget I said anything, sorry, just slipped out," Emma said, blushing bright red. "Oh, God, I've freaked you out, I'm sorry, I just meant I wish this didn't have to be the only time-"

"Did you mean it?" Regina asked, her eyes boring into Emma's with such intensity Emma thought she might melt.

Emma paused. Regina did not seem horrified. She was not disgusted, and she was definitely not scared.

"Yeah," she said huskily. "But so what?"

Regina's hands returned to Emma's body, caressing her skin with newfound passion.

"Would you like me to kill him?" she asked, her face gleaming.

Emma gaped at her, and not just because of where her fingers were. With a great deal of effort, she moved her hand to Regina's wrist and stilled it.

"Are you serious?"

"As a bullet to the head."

"So you can keep me as your whore?" Emma asked, only a little disappointed.

Regina laughed. "Oh no, Miss Swan. So that you can kill mine." Then she brushed the blonde's hand away and coaxed her to scream away any remaining tension.

Emma lay in silence for a long time afterwards. Regina waited, wondering if she had just made the biggest mistake of her life, but then Emma's mouth was on hers and fuck it, this was a risk worth taking.


End file.
